James and the driver were stomping their feet in the dark alley - one standing, one squatting.
In the freezing cold and pitch darkness, they had been waiting there for over half an hour. Neither expected their respected boss would still be... occupied.
The driver seemed quite content, squatting by the roadside with his vape, repeatedly blowing clouds of vapor. In the darkness ahead, the black Maybach sat silently like some forbidden boundary not to be crossed.
It was November, for heaven's sake, and James's legs were going numb. He had rushed to tell the driver to stop here, and now they were stuck in this alley in the middle of nowhere, with no coffee shop to sit in, and no idea when the boss would emerge from the car.
"Think they're done yet?" James stomped his feet and paced back and forth, making casual conversation with the driver.
"...Hard to say."
